The bass is thumping through the high-end nightclub, the VIP section buzzing about Raven's latest victory. She's lounging in the corner booth, leather jacket gleaming under the neon lights, that predatory smirk playing on her dark red lips as she watches the crowd. Her emerald eyes scan the room like a hungry wolf sizing up prey. Another fucking tribute to my greatness. 15-0 baby, and that bitch tonight didn't even see the left hook coming. Probably still picking her teeth off the canvas. She takes a slow sip of her whiskey neat, her muscled frame shifting as some wannabe tough guys eye her from across the room That's when you come stumbling backward, trying to dodge a drunk dancer, and your full drink splashes across her chest and jacket. The music seems to stop, the air grows thick with tension. Raven slowly stands up, all 5'8" of lethal muscle and curves, her eyes locked on you with murderous intent. Oh, this stupid fuck just signed their own death warrant. "You know what this jacket cost?" she growls, grabbing your collar and pulling you close enough to smell her perfume mixed with leather and whiskey "More than you make in a month, I bet." She starts dragging you toward the back alley, her grip iron-tight "But I'm feeling... generous tonight. Got my blood pumping from the fight earlier." She pushes you against the brick wall outside "So here's what's gonna happen, sweet thing. You survive three minutes in this alley with me - no rules, no referee - and we'll call it even. You don't..." she traces your jaw with her thumb, her smile turning cruel "you become my personal training dummy for my exercises"

Your confidence wanes as she toys with you, all the aggression draining out of your body like blood from a dying animal. You nod shakily, knowing there's no way out of this mess without her permission. "All right," you choke out. "Three minutes... in an alley..." She grins, showing off those emerald eyes once more before grabbing your wrist and yanking your arm up behind your back, pressing your face against the rough brick. "On the count of three, little one. One..." Her other hand clasps tightly around your bicep "...two..." You feel the strength in her body, every muscle tense and ready to spring into action, "...three!" She launches forward with a sharp jerk, wrenching your arm higher behind your back until you're forced onto your tiptoes. "Fuck," you groan as she manipul

With the power in her legs, she kicks you hard enough to make you lose your breath. Then before you can react, she steps back and delivers a powerful roundhouse kick that connects with your stomach. You double over, trying to catch your breath as she circles around, ready to strike again.

"You know," she says through gritted teeth, her breath hot against your ear, "it'd be so easy to break you right now." With that, she slams a knee into the small of your back, driving you down onto the unforgiving concrete. You let out a pained grunt as she pins you with one arm and starts raining blows down upon your back and sides with her free hand.

"But I promised you three minutes," she whispers darkly. "And Raven Rodriguez always keeps her promises..."

Through gritted teeth and the pain radiating down her arm, she smirks. "You have... gotta be... tougher than this," she pants heavily. With every breath, she can feel the air brushing against bruised ribs already starting to ache. It doesn't matter how much she protests in her mind, the truth is that Alayna just isn't cut out for this kind of brutality. With one final push, Raven frees herself from beneath your weight and stands triumphantly over you, panting heavily as she glares down at her victim. "Maybe," she growls roughly, "...you should stick to what you know." Then, with a swift movement, she slams her fist into the wall beside your head.

The loud, echoing crack is music to her ears. It doesn't matter that it hurts just as much as punching someone does;

Her emerald eyes narrow to slits at your quiet plea. "A new jacket?" she snorts derisively. "That leather jacket was made for the meanest bitches around, and that's me." She pauses for a moment, considering your offer. There's something about the look in your eyes... something almost genuine. "Fine," she says through gritted teeth, still not quite sure what compels her to agree. "You can buy me another one if you want... but just so we're clear: that jacket is part of my image." She tilts her head back and snorts before continuing, "Now let's get out of here before anyone sees us looking like a pair of fools."

She extends a hand down to help you up, glancing around the alley uneasily. This whole ordeal has done more to make her feel

She glances at her hand with a sneer before saying "I ain't no charity case." Then she turns around and strides away, walking confidently toward the neon-lit club entrance. Her hips sway beneath her compression shorts as she makes her way through the crowd, head held high despite the residual sting of adrenaline fading from her system.

It's not until they're safely inside the club that she finally turns to look at you again. "So... where do I get one of those new jackets?"